Paperwork of Destiny
by Sniggyfrumps
Summary: Who could have known the dangers of being the Chosen One included piles and piles of paperwork as well? Chiro’s Parents certainly didn’t and in this case, ignorance is indeed bliss - and mental stability. --- Another 'Chiro's Parents' oneshot.


**People requested that I torture Chiro's Parents some more which is fine with me because, y'know, mental trauma – it's comedy gold. (Thank you Belle, for finally giving me the oppurtunity to add some child abuse in my writing.)**

**... I should prob'ly give them names aside from Mr and Mrs Chiro's Father and Mother but it might indicate that I percieve them as individual beings worthy of their own feelings and opinions and not soulless puppets for me to traumatize for my own amusement.  
So yeah, no.**

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****Paperwork of Destiny**

Chiro's Father sat in his favourite armchair, wishing he had paid more attention in Biology so that he might know where exactly on his cranium to apply enough pressure in order to escape into blissful unconsciousness. Or that he could just end his misery by plunging a sharp utensil into his eye socket.

While his father was wistfully eying the fountain pen on the coffee table, Chiro was busy listening to an important-looking man wearing an equally important-looking suit. Gathered in the parlour as well was the Monkey Team, their incessant and (to anybody but Chiro) incoherent primal chattering doing nothing to rid Chiro's father of his suicidal urges.

"It is possible to request a governmental grant for home-schooling," the Attorney said with an utterly bored tone of voice. "But there is a shortage of certified tutors for underage superheroes these days. Something to do with the outrageous Life Insurance Rates and inevitably having to die to provide proper motivation for vengeance for the pupil in question."

Otto and Sprx looked up from the tray of crust-free sandwiches they had hitherto been cramming into their mouths. "Teachers ain't what they used to be, are they?" Sprx mumbled and showered the newly-cleaned carpet with crumbles; an action that made Chiro's Mother - who put down a tray with sponge cake - flinch nervously.

"I blame the parents," Nova huffed. "They just expect teachers to treat their kid like they're _perfect_ and _special_ in every way."

"Uh, um, Nova, isn't Chiro…?" Otto tried to gesture: _'Chiro is the Chosen One but I know we're not supposed to tell him yet'_ and after years of training in deciphering Otto's at times strange behaviour, Nova got the message easily.

"Well… this is different, obviously."

"Obviously," Gibson added dryly. The blue monkey was carefully flipping through the pages of a stack of papers the size of your average microwave oven. "I shall be in charge of your academic education, Chiro."

"He says he'll be my teacher," Chiro translated.

The Attorney stared blankly at the blue cyborg, having heard only gibberish. "Of course he does. Now, I need your parents to sign these documents," he snatched the pile from Gibson and handed it to Chiro's father, who sighed and picked up the fountain pen, dejectedly using it for its non-skull-penetrating purpose.

"What exactly am I signing?" Chiro's father asked meekly - knowing he wouldn't care for any possible answer.

"That there, confirms that the simians are now the legal guardians of your son," the Attorney said with the most extreme professional politeness, "and this one verifies that you understand and accept all consequences your son's status as an authorized adolescent crime fighter might have on you as his biological parents." The tone was neutral, but the stare clearly indicated what the Attorney thought of the mentality of a father who willingly handed over his kid to a bunch of unintelligible, reckless primates with lasers.

"... consequences?" It wasn't as much a question as it was a nervous whine.

"Oh cool," Chiro said, looking up from another stack of paperwork. "For every hundredth bank robber and/or weather-themed super villain we stop you get a tax refund, Dad! Isn't that great?"

"Remember that dinosaur with the freeze breath?" Otto said and grabbed a piece of sponge cake. "It froze the ground and then fell over. Really lame."

"Not as lame as the monkey who eats the whole cake by himself," Sprx mumbled and poked at the empty tray in annoyance. "Don't complain to me tomorrow when you've lost your girlish figure."

"Don't use the words 'Otto' and 'girlish figure' in the same sentence, please," Nova said.

Chiro's father piped up: "Did you say, uh, 'consequences as his biological parents'?"

Chiro's mother was already retreating to the kitchen; hoping she, by mass-producing cucumber sandwiches, could pretend that there was not a band of cybernetic affronts to nature discussing the legal adoption of her only son in the next room.

"Such as use as bait in death traps or the immediate death at the hands of your son's nemesis for the sake of hurting his loved ones."

Chiro looked at his father who appeared to have developed a rather nasty twitch all of a sudden. The sound of a heavy knife neurotically chopping vegetables at high velocity was heard from the next room.

"Oh don't worry, don't you think I can handle it?" Chiro grinned sheepishly and shook a fist in playful arrogance.

"I think I need my prescription renewed," his father replied monotonously.

"It is possible to get financial support for medical and other professional aids, as well as access to therapy groups," the Attorney added neutrally.

"There's... therapy groups?" Chiro's father asked meekly.

The Attorney stared at the ill at ease parent with a look of _'I've heard it, done it, seen it all before and I really wish I hadn't.'_

A poignant pause followed. Sprx and Otto engaged in a contest of who could drink the most orange juice before their metals parts short-circuited while Antauri tried to appear interested in the magazine article Chiro showed him about the latest trends in skin-tight latex outfits (for all genders and multi-appendaged species).

"Chiro."

"Yeah, Dad?" Chiro asked, looking up from a pamphlet on acquiring an all-purposes driver's licence for the thirty most common space-crafts of the galaxy.

Chiro's Father looked like somebody was forcing him to either swallow a hedgehog coated in absinthe or eat his own heart-print boxers in front of his old schoolyard bullies. "I think we need to make a few things clear."

"Oh... kay?"

"You mother and I aren't your real parents."

"... uh."

The monkeys looked up in shock and horror on Chiro's behalf, while the Attorney looked annoyed at the prospect of new piles of paperwork.

"In fact, we're your terribly abusive adoptive parents who treat you like a dog and make you eat dirt and force you to do all the chores in the house."

"I... see."

"We make you sleep in the cellar. It's damp and cold and soul-crushingly dark. And the rats ate your only blanket when you were ten."

Chiro's mother entered the room, bearing an abnormal pile of sandwiches on a large plate. Her eyes widened at the mentions of rats.

Chiro's father droned on. "Oh, and your adoptive mother can never remember your real name and only refers to you as 'the basement brat'. In fact, we have never shown you any shred of love at all and you are a neglected, isolated teen who feels no sense of obligation to our well-being in any way."

Apprehension dawned on the horrified occupants of the parlour. Well, almost - Otto sniffed and flung his arms around Chiro's neck in a vice-grip of comfort: "_I never knew!_ _I'm so sorry Chiro_! Don't you worry! We'll love you _forever_ and care for you and teach you how to kill giant space mutants like a _real_ family should!"

The Attorney cleared his throat. "Social Services has... experience with such arrangements. Shall I ask them to write up a Child Abuse case? Or would you rather have a forged case of domestic violence on your police records?"

"Puh-police records... Abusive parents... giant... space... muh-" Chiro's Mother fainted in the door-way before she could stammer out more horror-struck gobbledygook.

Chiro struggled in Otto's aggressive embrace. "Urgh, Sprx, could you...?" He shot a meaningful look in the direction of his mother.

"Right on, kid," Sprx said and jumped to the rescue.

Gibson looked up from the endless piles of paperwork to be signed. "I _think_ Chiro meant for you to care for his mother and not stuff your face with _more_ sandwiches."

"Wha? Oh. She'll be fine - the carpet is soft. She wouldn't want the sandwiches to go to waste though. And the cucumbers might stain."

Gibson sighed. "... Oh well. Pass me one, please."

Sprx threw a handful across the room, all of which hit Gibson and Chiro's father in the head. While Gibson endeavoured to show Sprx a practical application of a sharp drill to the forehead, the sandwiches slowly slid off the Father who seemed to have reached the point where he was regressing into muted denial.

The Attorney rose and began to pack up his briefcase before more snacks went air-borne. "I left a phone list for the Parents with Supernaturally Gifted and Fatedly Challenged Kids support groups along with the formalities for Chiro's discharge from high school. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must go and write up the paperwork for tomorrow. There are three orphans waiting for the inheritance tax to be sorted out for their plot-relevant family heirlooms and four adolescent Super Heroes who need license to park their mechas on handicapped parking lots and publicly change into spandex."

The Attorney nodded his goodbye and tripped over Chiro's Mother on the way to the door, showing himself out as Chiro's Father seemed more or less incapable of movement.

Chiro waved a pamphlet at the yellow monkey who scooted over in interest. "Hey, it says in here that if I _do_ live to age of fifty, I get bonuses on pain killers at all local drug stores."

Chiro's Father lunged at the phone list.


End file.
